


Burning Hands

by TakeninStride



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Caduceus has speaking lines, Caleb's adventures in catatonia, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Injury - Not graphic, Little bit of Fluff, Little bit of angst, Mighty Nein mentioned, Near Death Experience, Widojest - Freeform, Widojest week 2019, day 2: healing, random encounter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-09
Updated: 2019-07-09
Packaged: 2020-06-25 03:19:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19737247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TakeninStride/pseuds/TakeninStride
Summary: When Jester goes down in a fight, Caleb has to think quick with his spell mods to keep her alive.





	Burning Hands

It was an ogre. 

A quick ambush by just the one hulking figure. Should have been routine for them at this point. Cad tried to reason with the guy, get him to stand down, as he had done with the Stone Giants. Jester’s charm spell fizzled ineffectively in the air around her and then the ogre rounded on her. Something wasn’t quite right with the eyes; burning red, pupils narrowed impossibly for a warm blooded creature, foam flying into the air as it snarled and rounded back and swatted at her like a buzzing fly, catching her between the ribs with one side of its double-edged axe. 

For the rest of his life, Caleb will never forget the sickening squelch the connection made, will never be able to go to a butchery again without seeing the way her form became weightless in an instant, only able to fall to the ground once the beast had wrenched the weapon back out of her. 

Caduceus was yelling that he was too far to get to her, an edge of panic in the Firbolg’s voice. Caleb wanted to freeze, but a quick inventory told him that that was too much blood pooling on the ground around her. He knew they didn’t have much time. So he moved. 

He heard Beau unleash a snarl that could give Yasha a run for her money, then some meaty thwacks, but his vision was swimming with the unconscious blue tiefling as he knelt at her side. He gingerly reached to pull her onto her good side, so he could assess the wound. He was sure by the positioning that the cut was too low to have punctured a lung so at least he didn’t have to worry about her suffocating. His hands were shaking fiercely, already stained with her dark blood. 

“Scheisse, okay okay okay, got to stop all that,” he babbled mindlessly, diving into his components pouch. He pulled a handful of gunpowder into one hand, sifted some into the other, and rubbed them together. The fine powder adhered to the tacky layer of blood, clumping in places, but otherwise coating the flats of his hands. “I hope this works.” 

He clapped, clicking his tongue with an arcane syllable, and watched a simmering layer of fire light on his cool palms. A sigh of relief. A grimace. He carefully placed them against her wound, willing the heat to melt her skin back together. He apologized sweetly in whispers that were drowned out by shouting from Fjord and Yasha somewhere behind him. The smell of it dredged up his past and he squeezed his eyes shut. _I’m helping, I’m trying to help her,_ he plead against the wave of guilt, doubt, and fear that bloomed like a lead weight in his chest. 

After a few horrible moments, he pulled his hands back and hissed at the sight of purpled, bubbled, and blistering imprints of his hands against her skin. But the wound was cauterized. He shook his hands out to extinguish them, pulled the scarf from his neck, poured out some water onto it, and carefully placed it against her, also snuffing out the glowing embers at the edges of her dress. A quick check on her pulse and the fluttering of her chest told him she must have stabilized. All he could do, then, was to protect her from further injury. 

He rounded back on the ogre just in time to see Nott fire two bolts one after the other. The first made impact square in the middle of the ogre’s forehead, but as it reached to tear it away, the second split through and lodged itself deep in the creature’s frontal lobe. The tension drained away, it swayed, and then hit the ground. Caduceus was on Jester a moment later. Caleb stepped back, gave the firbolg room to work. 

He stumbled away, went to go sit somewhere, and maybe vomit a little. He’s not sure how much time passed. Nott came to sit by him for a bit. Told him Jester was going to be fine, they were taking a long rest to let her recuperate. When she left, Caleb poofed Frumpkin into his lap, idly patting at his patient familiar. Caduceus came to bring him a bowl of veg soup once it started getting dark. He also came with calm reassurances. 

“What you did for her was a good thing, you know,” the pinkette drawled as he tapped into Caleb’s tumultuous inner dialogue with that unsettling perception of his. “I know I’m grateful for your quick thinking there. I’d venture to guess the others feel the same way.” A long pause. “Feels pretty good to save someone, doesn’t it?” 

The enlightened gleam in his pink eyes, and his proud, lopsided smile seem to cut through the darkness clouding Caleb’s mind, bringing him back into the present. He took a deep breath through his nose, nodded, and sipped at his soup. Cad patted him on the shoulder, gave a happy ‘Atta boy’ before shuffling back over to the group. Frumpkin butted his head against Caleb’s chin before climbing up to assume scarf position as the wizard continued to slurp at his meal. 

He heard Jester wake up, in the way that the others reacted. Notably Beau’s loud, “There she is! Morning Jessie.” The others must have filled her in on what happened, because when she sits down next to him later she greets him with a ‘thank you.’ 

He can’t _not_ look: the burned hole in the dress framed her exposed skin. It was too dark to make out fine details but it looked _better,_ at least. No blood on her skin, the burn he’d left behind is no longer angry and bubbling. He could still make out the shape of his hands easily. “I’m sorry.” 

“You’re supposed to say ‘you’re welcome’ y’know,” she teased, bumping her shoulder into his. Then she twisted, lifting her arm to regard the injury. “Actually, I think I like it. It’s kinda cute!” 

“Cute.” He blinked. _How in the world is it cu-_

“Kind of like a butterfly!” She explained, holding her hands out in front of them, recreating the shape. The meaty part of her palms together, fingers pressed flush, thumbs pointing up. She flapped her fingers, floating her hands around in the air. “See?” 

“Of course you would…” He shook his head incredulously at her. Then, tentatively, “You won’t heal it away?” 

“Caylebb, what kind of super cool adventurer would I be if I didn’t get any super cool scars? Besides,” she hugged her knees to her chest, voice dropping to a serious tone, “your fire saved my life. I want to remember that… don’t you?” 

His heart parkoured in his chest, and he had to swallow it back down. “That’s… you don’t have to do that.” _I’m sorry._

“I know.” _I forgive you._

A silent moment stretched between them, unspoken apologies and reassurances volleyed back and forth before Caleb sighed his defeat. So he reached over and kissed her forehead, before pulling her into a careful side hug. _Thank you_. 

She leaned into him, resting her temple on his shoulder. 

“You’re welcome.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Art accompaniment here: https://daciafu.tumblr.com/post/186156768148/widojest-week-2019-day-2-healing-it-was-an
> 
> Thanks for reading :D Let me know what you think!


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